Being on the receiving end of my boss’s anger was not good.

“Goddamned motherfucking imbecile!” Lanny railed at me and paced behind his desk. I remained seated in the chair opposite his desk with my back straight and my hands clasped in front of me like a good little soldier.

“Tell me why you’re such a fucking idiot, Saint? Why? Your job is to keep your goddamned opinions to yourself and keep the client safe. Was that too much for you to grasp? Really?” Lanny’s face was red, and he couldn’t look right at me. I’d already felt like a royal ass before he’d called me in there. “It would be one thing if this was the first time you let your fucking mouth get you into trouble, but we both know it’s hardly the first time and it sure as hell won’t be the last. You barely talk to anyone around here, yet you can’t keep your fucking mouth shut on the job?”

He ran his hands through his buzzed hair, making a scritching sound. “Fuck,” he muttered, winding down a bit. “Jesusfuckingchrist you’re a complete liability to this company. Total asshole.”

Lanny looked up at me finally, pinning me with a hard stare. I just looked back at him, knowing better than to speak before being spoken to.

He let out a breath. “Speak.”

“That woman was an idiot,” I said under my breath. And I meant it. The teeny-bopper pop singer I’d been in charge of had strutted and snorted her way through five clubs one night while I was protecting her, and she’d treated every server like shit. I had kept my mouth shut for more than eight hours of disgusting behavior and treatment of others before finally muttering under my breath, “Spoiled fucking brat needs a spanking.”

It was never meant to be overheard. But TMZ had aired the video clip the next day, and I quickly realized someone had caught it on film. Lucky me.

Lan sat back down behind his desk. “I should fire you.”

“Maybe.”

“You cost me a good client.”

“If you say so.”

He rolled his eyes. “This is where you apologize, beg for your job, and remind me of why I can’t afford to lose you, jackass.”

I did my best to remain calm. No matter how angry he was, I knew Lanny wasn’t going to fire me. He was a good man. And he knew if I’d said what I had, it was because I’d truly been pushed to the limits. It didn’t make it right, but it made it understandable.

“I’m adorable,” I said with a straight face.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried not to smile. “I’m not sure you’re my type.”

“You should be so lucky.”

“Saint, you’re killing me. I can’t send you out again right now, and you know it,” he said.

I gritted my teeth as thoughts of hours of downtime flashed through my head. I couldn’t handle being idle. “I need this job,” I said in a low voice. “And I didn’t lose my shit until I’d been working twenty hours in a row for the eighth day straight and she demanded I wake up a single mother of two small children so Gemma could have a particular flavor of ice cream. It was four in the morning.”

“When has she ever not been a pain in the ass? You knew that going into this assignment, Saint. And I’m not firing you, but I am putting you on a paid leave. You’re benched until further notice.”

My stomach dropped. Benched? What did that even mean? I was a bodyguard. How could I guard a body if I was stuck at home?

Lanny flipped through folders on his desk until he found the one he was looking for. “We have a new client who needs private self-defense classes. He happens to live in your hometown, so I thought that might be something you could do while the media attention dies down.”

I felt my nostrils flare. “What do you mean? Like teach some lady how to foil a purse snatcher?”

He pierced me with those eyes again. “No, like teach a little book nerd how to defend himself in a fight. The guy’s sister is actually the one who hired us. She said he’s been acting skittish lately but won’t say why. She’s worried about him. The young man himself seemed spooked as well, but when I tried to talk him into regular bodyguard services simply due to his family’s wealth, he said that was ridiculous. At the very least I was able to talk him into learning some self-defense.”

Something about that seemed off to me. “That’s… odd,” I said. “If he’s suddenly skittish, there must be a reason.”

“I agree, and I think you should look into it. But the man’s grandfather is Jonathan Stiel, so this is a big fucking deal. Making him happy with these sessions could lead to a much more lucrative full-service contract for us. As you can imagine there are inherent facility and personnel security needs involved in running a company like the Stiel Corporation.”

“Stiel like the Stiel Foundation? The Stiel building downtown? Jesus. That would be a huge contract. Good for you, Lan,” I said, taking the file he handed me.

“Yes, the Stiel building houses the global headquarters of their billion-dollar family real estate development company. Jonathan’s daughter, your client’s mother, sits on the board of directors as well and is a highly regarded, very well-known socialite in the elite Dallas circles. Do you understand how important this is? How important it is that you don’t call August Stiel a spoiled fucking brat who needs a spanking?”

I felt my hackles rise. August? What kind of name was that? Sounded like a stereotypical trust fund brat. “Shit, Lanny. Maybe he’s the kind of guy who enjoys a good spanking.” I glanced up from the file and caught him pinning me with a glare.

“Keep your filthy hands off the clients, Saint. Self-defense moves only. Help me make this man happy,” he warned.

“Dude, I believe I have a proven track record of making men happy,” I said dryly before standing up.

“Get the fuck out of here. You’re due in Hobie at five. I’ve arranged for you to use a room at a local fitness studio, and I assume you can stay with your crazy-ass family.”

After heading north toward Hobie, I realized I already knew the owner of the fitness studio where I’d be working with Lanny’s client. Twist had been founded by Neckie Birch, who was by far the hippiest bohemian to ever come out of Hobie High. She’d been the super-chill girl my twin sister had crushed on the entire four years we were in school with her. MJ would have died if she’d found out I was spending time with Neckie Birch for the next few weeks. I wondered if I could convince MJ to take some vacation time to come hang with me in Hobie to get her flirt on.

I was surprised to see Twist had quadrupled in size since the last time I’d been in. Apparently the fitness business was good in the growing town of Hobie, which was a far cry from the tiny Jazzercise studio and ramshackle rec center the town had sported while I was growing up.

After introducing myself to the receptionist, I glanced through a glass-windowed classroom to see Neckie herself conducting the cooldown sequence of a stretching session. I was shocked to discover her smuggling a beach ball under her yoga tunic, but as much as I wanted to grill her about the unexpected pregnancy, I stepped out of the way so as not to interrupt her current class. My fingers immediately flew across my phone screen.

I tried surreptitiously taking photos of the lovely preggo before sending them to my sister.

The phone rang. “Well hello, baby sis.”

“I’m older than you are, idiot,” MJ said.

“Only because I was a gentleman and let you exit first.”

“Please tell me Neckie isn’t in any danger, Saint.”

I could hear the worry in her voice, and it squeezed my heart. MJ was a pretty stoic person in most cases, but she’d always had a soft spot for the free-spirit woman currently giving new meaning to the term child’s pose.

“No. No, she’s fine. Sorry to worry you. I’m not here for a bodyguard gig. Just using the studio to teach a self-defense lesson. I’ve been assigned to this pissant duty as punishment for running my mouth.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “Serves you right. Suck it up and be glad he didn’t fire you.”

“Come hang out with me,” I whined. “I need my baby sister to entertain me. Plus, you can flirt with the human incubator.”

“What’s the point? She’s brewing some guy’s kid. All hope is lost. Leave me alone to stew.”

“There’s no ring on her finger…” I teased.

“Her fingers are probably swollen. Seriously, Saint. Don’t mess with me. I’m really upset about this. I… I always kind of…”

She didn’t need to say the rest. I already knew she’d always held a torch for Neckie. But hearing the hopeless tone in her voice made it real.

“I’m sorry, Em. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Nah. It’s good. Maybe that’s the sign I need to get out there and go on some dates. I’m thirty-one for god’s sake.”

“Law school and the partnership track at the firm have kept you pretty busy. But I thought you were seeing that chick from Hallie’s party.”

“Pfft. I wasn’t the only one. I found out when I met Hallie for drinks and her friend Dawn went on and on about her hot new girlfriend with the tiger tattoo and ear gauges. But it’s fine. She was a little too high-strung for me. I need someone relaxing to come home to after a long day at the firm. Not someone who wants to run right back out and party all night.”

I was prepared to give her a pep talk about finding the right woman when I heard the receptionist say my name. “Gotta go, sis. My client just walked in. Please consider coming up to Hobie this weekend if you can. Love you.”

“Love you too. Keep an eye on her, Saint,” MJ said in a serious tone.

As I hung up, I tried to psych myself up for the boring task ahead. I’d already researched the guy on the internet and read up on him before our session. He owned a little antiques shop in Hobie near the pub my brother had helped open. I wasn’t sure exactly what had brought him to my tiny hometown from Dallas the year before, but it seemed a far cry from the rest of his family who seemed to own half of Dallas and flaunted their wealth in all of the social spheres in the city.

The photos I’d found showed August himself to be an attractive guy maybe in his late twenties. He wasn’t the elegant, glamorous yacht-riding douche I’d pictured when I’d read Lanny’s client file, and I had to admit something about the man’s photo drew me in. I decided it wasn’t possible for him to be that geekily adorable in real life, but I had to hand it to the guy, he employed a genius in the Photoshop department. And according to the articles online, he wasn’t necessarily as wealthy as his mother or grandfather, but he did have a significant net worth nonetheless. August’s great-aunt had passed away almost a year earlier, leaving him a penthouse in the city and a farmhouse in Hobie, but I hadn’t realized what else they were involved in until I did the research on them that afternoon. The Stiel family had a charity foundation, which was essentially a multimillion-dollar conservative think tank and contributor to every far-right organization in Texas. The Stiel Foundation had enough money to impact elections, research, and policy. The sheer amount of money they managed was breathtaking. The family name was such a big deal in Texas social circles, August’s father had taken the Stiel name upon marriage rather than Jonathan Stiel having to become a lowly Smith.

In addition to money and connections, online rumor had it August Stiel was also in a long-term relationship with the gorgeous news anchor at one of the largest television stations in Dallas–Fort Worth. I wondered if that was another potential feather in Lanny’s cap. Providing security services to a local celebrity would pull in lots of great visibility for the company.

When I walked to the front desk to greet him, I learned just how wrong I’d been about August Stiel’s photo. No Photoshop in the world could improve upon how attractive he was in real life. He was specifically sent by the devil to tempt me as punishment for calling that last client a brat.

I’d landed another spoiled rich client to babysit. Only this one was…

This one was… ungh.

My feet froze in place, running shoes making a squeaking sound on the floor, drawing his attention. I stared at him. He wasn’t large by any means, but he carried himself erect as if he felt the need to keep even his body under strict control at all times. Dark-rimmed glasses framed his hazel eyes, and his forehead had quotation mark furrows in the center between his brows. His lips were red and sensual like a woman’s, but his jaw was angled and tight like a man’s. He had thick, dark hair and five-o’clock shadow that made him look moody and mysterious in his dark business suit. Everything about the man looked wound up tight enough to snap.

Which just made me want to snap him as soon as I could.

“You must be Mr. Stiel,” I said, reaching out a hand to shake as I forced myself into motion again.

“I am,” he said. His voice was decisive but quieter than I expected. His eyes seemed to be studying me from behind his glasses, and I wondered what he was thinking. A sliver of need snaked through my gut, and I mentally slapped myself. Was I for fucking real? Seriously, Saint, he’s a goddamned client. Keep your fucking distance. Be professional.

“My name is Saint Wilde. I’ll be training you. Welcome to Twist.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“Why don’t we start by getting you out of those clothes,” I suggested. Way to go with the professional talk, asshole.

His eyes flared for a microsecond before his brow furrowed deeper. “Excuse me?”

Get it together, Saint. “Unless you wanted to work out in your suit? Fine by me, I guess. Suit yourself.”

The receptionist rolled her eyes at my pun, but Mr. Stiel didn’t seem to have noticed it. The man looked down at himself as if realizing for the first time he was not dressed for the task at hand. “Oh crap.”

I couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. “It’s okay. I brought clothes you can wear.”

He looked up at me, his own face flaming, and something stupid happened in my stomach.

Stupid fucking stomach.

“Shoes,” he blurted. “I don’t have the right kind of shoes either.”

Okay, so awkward antiques geek was awkward. And cute as a fucking button.

“It’s okay. We’re going to be barefoot on the mat anyway. And you’ll be spending more time on your back than your feet, so it’s a moot point, really.” Apparently I couldn’t help myself. The innuendo was coming out of my mouth whether I liked it or not. The receptionist widened her eyes at my brazen behavior, and the client himself blushed an even deeper shade of pink.

God, this was going to be weird.